This morning Edith had telephoned to her friend, Miss Bennett, an old schoolfellow who had nothing to do, and adored commissions. Edith, sitting by the fire or at the 'phone, gave her orders, which were always decisive, short and yet meticulous. Miss Bennett was a little late this morning, and Edith had been getting quite anxious to see her. When she at last arrived--she was a nondescript-looking girl, with a small hat squashed on her head, a serge coat and skirt, black gloves and shoes with spats--Edith greeted her rather reproachfully with: 'You're late, Grace.' 'Sorry,' said Grace. The name suited her singularly badly. She was plain, but had a pleasant face, a pink complexion, small bright eyes, protruding teeth and a scenario for a figure, merely a collection of bones on which a dress could be hung. She was devoted to Edith, and to a few other friends of both sexes, of whom she made idols. She was hard, abrupt, enthusiastic, ignorant and humorous. 'Sorry, but I had to do a lot of--' 'All right,' interrupted Edith. 'You couldn't help it. Listen' to what I want you to do.' 'Go ahead,' said Miss Bennett, taking out a note-book and pencil. Edith spoke in her low, soft, impressive voice, rather slowly. 'Go anywhere you like and bring me back two or three perfectly simple tea-gowns--you know the sort of shape, rather like evening cloaks--straight lines--none of the new draperies and curves--in red, blue and black.' 'On appro.?' asked Miss Bennett. 'On anything you like, but made of Liberty satin, with a dull surface.' 'There's no such thing.' Grace Bennett laughed. 'You mean charmeuse, or crepe-de-chine, perhaps?' 'Call it what you like, only get it. You must bring them back in a taxi.' 'Extravagant girl!' 'They're not to cost more than--oh! not much,' added Edith, 'at the most.' 'Economical woman! Why not have a really good tea-gown while you're about it?' 'These _will_ be good. I want to have a hard outline like a Fergusson.' 'Oh, really? What's that?' 'Never mind. And suppose you can't get the shape, Grace.' 'Yes?' 'Bring some evening cloaks--the kimonoish kind--I could wear one over a lace blouse; it would look exactly the same.' 'Edith, what curious ideas you have! But you're right enough. Anything else?' said Miss Bennett, standing up, ready to go. 'I like shopping for you. You know what you want.' 'Buy me an azalea, not a large one, and a bit of some dull material of the same colour to drape round it.' 'How extraordinary it is the way you hate anything shiny!' exclaimed Miss Bennett, making a note. 'I know; I only like _mat_ effects. Oh, and in case I choose a light-coloured gown, get me just one very large black velvet orchid, too.' 'Right. That all?' Edith looked at her shoes; they were perfect, tiny, pointed and made of black suède. She decided they would do. 'Yes, that's all, dear.'